


Method Acting

by seven (sevenpoints)



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: D/s, M/M, Orgasm Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:50:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenpoints/pseuds/seven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just how did Chris and Zach pull off the Spock/Kirk fight with such fantastic tension?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Both men came with a mutual shout, gripping at each other’s arms for long moments as their release pulsed through them.  Zach pulled out with a deeply satisfied groan and flopped over, only to have Chris roll on top of him to share one more kiss before going boneless and nuzzling into him. 

It was early morning during the shoot.  In a few minutes Zach would need to get up and head in to get his ears and eyebrows done, but for now, they had some time.

“It’s the fight scene today,” he began.  “You ready for this?”

“I hope so,” Chris grumbled.  “I’ve certainly had enough practice getting my ass kicked for this movie.”

“Be careful.  If you go in with that attitude, you’re likely to come off as complacent.”

There was a beat before Chris was rolling off him, indignation written in every line of his body.  “‘Complacent?’”

“It means self-satisfied.”

“I know what it means, asshole!”  That got him one of Zach’s infuriatingly _patient_ looks, which had Chris clamping down on his irritation immediately.  In a level voice, he asked, “Are you saying you doubt my ability?”

“Not at all.  I was just making a commentary based on my experience with dozens of fight scenes prior to this film.”

“Oh.”  Damn Zach and his “prior experience.”  If anyone was likely to come off as complacent, it was him, but saying so would probably get his nuts pinched.  “Any tips?”

Zach smiled and got out of bed, as if he’d been waiting for this.  “Just one.  Lie back and close your eyes.”

Bemused, Chris complied.  At a touch between his legs, he shook his head.  “If your tip includes a stress-relieving blowjob, you’re gonna have to give me another minute or two.”

“Stress relief?  Hardly.”  Something cold brushed his relaxed member before squeezing around it with enough pressure to make him sit up with a shout.

“Zach what the fuck?!”  He stared at the metal cock ring, or rings rather, an evil trio now snug around the base of his cock and balls.  They were tight enough to keep him from getting hard yet, perversely, seeing them there made him twitch.

He transferred his stare to Zach, who was still smiling.  “It’s to help keep you tense, keep that light in your eyes.”

“Oh _really_ ,” Chris drawled.  “Then where’s your cock ring?  Believe me, I’d love to help you put it on.”

The other man licked his lips, and leaned down to trace one elegant finger around the periphery of the ring.  “I’ll know you’re wearing it.  I’ll know we’re both thinking about it, constantly, the way it holds you back, and all day long the tension will just build and build and never, ever release.”  He wrapped his hand around Chris and stroked, both of them transfixed as the skin behind the ring darkened with blood, but his member stayed soft.  “I want you to use that tension, Chris.  I want to see it.”

Oh no fucking way.  “Zach.  I—thanks for the tip, but I can’t do this.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do anything I haven’t done myself.”

“Oh, so you’re _asking_?”

Zach just smiled, evilly, and gave his caged cock one last tug before releasing him (sadly, not from the rings).  “I gotta head in to make up.  See you in a few hours.”

“I hope you get hit by a bus,” Chris snapped.  “I’m not doing this.”

Zach shrugged, outwardly unconcerned.  “That’s up to you.”

+++

Shit fuck son of a bitch.

Of _course_ he was doing this.

The worst thing about this was that Zach had known.  He had known that Chris hated to back down from a challenge, that his own ego would fuck him over and make him wear the shitting cock rings, just because Zach said he’d done it before. The fact that he knew that Zach knew that _he knew that Zach knew_ just added insult to injury.

It was therefore inevitable that he’d find himself in his trailer, holding one of those god-awful dance belts the wardrobe crew made them wear, trying to think of a way to tuck his parts into it without pinching them off altogether.  As he did, he realized the situation could have been much more serious: Zach could have made him hard before putting him in the ring.

Once he was finally in his costume, he couldn’t decide if the belt made it better or worse.  Without it, his dangly bits would be dangling, brushing against the material of his boxers and pants.  With it, however, he had the sense a phantom hand was constantly cupping his cock, tight, teasing and playful, very much the way Zach did, right before ripping his clothes off, biting at his neck and murmuring in his ear about how he could feel him getting hard in his palm…

“…And that is just not where your thoughts need to be, Christopher.  Fuck.”  Zach was right: he could feel the tension building incrementally behind the ring, making him want to either tear the damn thing off or tear into someone else, make them feel as frustrated as he did.

Huh.  How ‘bout that.

“Zach, you brilliant bastard.”

+++

Just watching Zach play Spock, focusing his intentions like light through a magnifying glass, was enough to get Chris hard on a regular day.  Today, it was fucking deadly.

Today, every death glare has him pulsing behind the rings, shoving him closer and closer to getting fucking _nowhere_ as his frustration mounted.  It threw him off, had his eyes suddenly skewing into middle distance when he should have been staring down Zach.  The rest of the cast was unimpressed, and Simon was resorting to ad-libbing just to ease some of the irritation radiating from everyone, especially JJ.  When he fucked up and lost focus for the sixth time, the director heaved an exasperated sigh that was his equivalent of a screaming fit, and told everyone to take a break.

“And Chris,” he added, “if you’re not ready when we come back, we’re just going to have to go through this all again tomorrow.  This scene is the key to the entire canon: you have to get Spock out of the chair.”

Well.  This was one way to cut back his arousal.  “I know, JJ.  I’m sorry; I swear I’ll get this when we come back.”

“You’d better,” he replied, in a tone that had Chris frantically reminding himself that Kirk couldn’t possibly be recast at this point.

He fled.

Zach found him a few minutes later, on his knees in the middle of his trailer, hands fisted as he fought for control.  “That looked embarrassing.”

Chris’ vision went white, then red.  “You _bastard_.”  He was up in a flash, shoving Zach against the wall, some rational part of his mind making sure he struck it with his shoulders and not with his carefully made up head.  “Are you _enjoying_ this?  Do you fucking _like_ seeing me screw up?”

In response, Zach palmed his cock.

Chris felt his strength drain in a flush.  “No, Zach, please, pleasepleasepleasedon’t—!”

“I am enjoying this,” and fuck, it shouldn’t be so hot to see passion in Spock’s eyes _but it is_.  “I’ve been enjoying this, watching you wriggle, watching those gorgeous blue eyes swim in and out of lust and rage and _shame_ —”

“Fuck you!  You have no idea how frustrated I’ve been—”

“Oh but I do—”

“— _No,_ you don’t!”  Zach didn’t like being interrupted at the best of times, and this time he definitely had Chris by the short hairs.  A vicious squeeze hiked Chris’ voice up several octaves but he still managed to bite out, “You didn’t have to fucking deal with _you_ strutting around like the arrogant son of a bitch that you are.  Shit!”  Zach was rubbing him in earnest now, his cock doubly bound by the rings and the dance belt and absolutely _screaming_ to come, and come, and come, all over Zach’s smirking face.  The arousal sat low in his belly, a burning ache that made him double over, clutching at Zach’s supporting arm and hating himself for his weakness.

“If you can make me come in the next five minutes, I’ll return the favor.”

It took all his strength to steady his voice, but he managed.  “Fuck.  You.”

“Maybe later.”  Chris felt his heart stop.  “If you’re good.”

Shit.  Zach didn’t bottom.  He bit and spanked and _teased like a fucking woman_ , but he didn’t bottom.  Chris had tried to bring this up before, but every time Zach would just quirk his eyebrow and look _pensive_ and the next thing he knew, Chris was spreading his legs and moaning for it, hard and fast.  To think that Zach would be the one, open, wet, gasping as Chris pressed inside…

To hell with pride.  He fell to his knees.

When he got the costume open, the large wet spot on Zach’s dance belt had him grinning.  “Apparently you weren’t lying about enjoying yourself.”

“I wasn’t lying about the five minutes, either.  You’re already down to four and a half.”

Chris had his mouth on his cock before he finished his sentence.  As he fell to work, he couldn’t help thinking, _I’ll do it in three_.

+++

Four and a half minutes later, he wants to kill himself.  And Zach.  And then himself again.

Zach finally reached down to grip his erection, a careful hand in Chris’ hair forcing him to stop.  The bitter taste of his precome had Chris moaning, whimpering, pleading wordlessly as his sucked and sucked until Zach pulled him off.

“Oh God, Zach, please, please, you can’t leave me like this.”  The rings were biting into him, a savage clamp on his arousal.  With Zach’s cock on his tongue he’d managed, unbelievably, to get hard, throbbing, aching like he’d never ever ached before.  “Please, Zach?”  He caught the other man’s hands as he tucked his erection away, clinging to them as he begged on his knees.

Zach calmly pulled them away to finish fastening his costume, and Chris felt his heart sink.

“You don’t get to come until JJ says, ‘check the gate.’”

A thousand forms of homicide burst through Chris’ mind.  “ _Are you fucking kidding me?!_ ”

“Don’t you wish I were.  Come on, we have a scene to finish.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chris was channeling.

Chris was channeling like a motherfucker.  He and Kirk, they both had a bone to pick with a certain pointy-eared bastard of a shit eater who was too fucking smug for his own fucking good.

“ _How did you manage to beam aboard this ship?_ ”

“ _You’re the genius, you figure it out._ ” Damn, that was satisfying.

“ _As acting captain of this vessel, I order you to answer the question_ ” and god, wasn’t it just like Zach to pull rank?  Chris could barely keep a handle on his glee as he spat out his refusal, and then had to hold back an open sneer as Simon denied him in turn. 

Well.  He might have sneered a little.

“ _You **will** answer me_.”  It was really terribly gratifying to see Zachary seething for once, and to imagine his unsated cock throbbing inside his costume.   
  
Chris is pretty sure he’s never understood James Tiberius Kirk so well as he does in this moment.

He also understands it when Kirk pushes a smidge too far; it’s intoxicating to see Zach unravel, as himself or as Spock.  As his fists come swinging down Chris doesn’t have to fake his grunts or his stumbling retreat—the sense of power has him so turned on he can barely walk.

When Zach’s hand wrapped around his throat, he couldn’t keep his eyes from rolling back in his head.  His arousal mounted to unbearable levels, sending insanity radiating out from where it built up, trapped, _contained_ behind the rings.  When Zach lets him go he gasps, bucks, almost chokes on the need to rip them both out of their costumes and fuck him right through the bridge of the god damn _Enterprise_.

As Zach exits stage left and Chris swings into The Chair, he doesn’t have to fake the triumph shining in his eyes.

+++

This time when Chris burst into his trailer he was being propelled by an equally desperate Zach. 

“You were fucking brilliant,” Zach hissed, yanking off Chris’ boots while somehow managing to unfasten his pants at the same time.  Chris was shaking so hard he couldn’t stand and just collapsed, dizzily grateful when Zach managed to deflect him onto the couch instead of the floor.

“You were so good,” Zach continued, pausing in his frenzy to gently ease the dance belt over the pounding lump of flesh that used to be a perfectly happy dick.  “You were so good, and I’m going to make this so good for you in return.”

His words were doing absolutely nothing to soothe the miserable ache.  “Oh my God, Zach, just take it off!  Please, baby?  Please take it off?”

“Shh.”  He dropped kisses up and down his caged cock, each press of his lips burning like a tattoo ripped into his hyper sensitized skin.  Chris’ ears rang as his every sense narrowed to the feel of his lover’s tongue cool against his heated flesh, slipping and flicking and sending his reason spinning away from him in small, bright sparks.  Unbelievably, he felt precome, just a little, force its way past the rings and out of his slit and fuck, that was almost like an orgasm by itself, if by “almost” you mean “not even remotely, you son of a prick sucking _whore_.” 

One hand settled on that ridiculous bowl cut, wanting to seize Zach and force his mouth on his cock, but the blood pooling in his groin left him lightheaded and weak and god, he’d never known the meaning of the word _frustration_ until right now, this very second.  “Want to fuck you,” he panted.  “Wanted to fuck you on set, in front of god and everyone.”

“I think he’d prefer it if you just call him JJ,” Zach snarked, and before he could reply, every inch of his rather angry looking erection was disappearing down Spock’s throat, the suction forming a horrible ( ** _wonderful_** ) counterpoint to the pressure of the rings.  He bobbed his head a few times, effectively destroying Chris’ last three remaining brain cells, then pulled off to stroke him rapidly, his hand slicking quickly over his own spit.

“Come on,” Zach growled.  “Come for me, Chris.  I want to taste it.  I want to fucking choke on it.”

Jesus fucking Christ.  “I can’t!”

“You will.”  Those lips wrapped around him again, strangely cool but heating quickly, and Chris was basically a spinal cord and a galaxy of nerves, all of them screaming with agonizing pleasure at the feel of Zach’s tongue trying to force its way under the rings, but failing.  One hand came up to cup his balls, then _bounce_ them, heavy with pent-up desire and god, it hurt, it fucking hurt.

“It hurts!” he managed to sob.  “Hurts, baby, please please please it hurts, please….”  He kept up his begging, shameless in his desperation, wanting so badly to tear the ring off himself but not trusting his hands to do the work.

Zach’s hands, for their part, were going to kill him.  He’d left off bouncing his balls around (thank fuck) and was palming him steadily instead (shitshitshit) while petting his perineum with smooth, heavy strokes and Chris really just wanted to die as his orgasm butted against the rings, and stopped.

He opened his eyes to plead again, and was met with the sight of Spock, fucking _Spock_ , on his knees, looking far from immaculate with his hair tousled and a furious purple erection pumping down his throat.  Chris could only look for a second before his vision flared white and then black and he came, finally fucking came, in bursts of sweet satisfaction that rolled through him like they would never end and he would just keep pulsing down Zach’s throat for the rest of his life.

+++

He woke at the broad touch of a tongue, lapping at his face.  What the hell?

“Noah?”

A breathless laugh.  “Not quite.”

Opening his eyes revealed Zach, gently wiping away his make up with a soft washcloth.  He’d been de-Spocked at some point, his ears and abbreviated eyebrows back to normal.  “Wardrobe’s been asking after you.  I said that you’d fallen asleep and would bring in your costume when you woke up.”

Chris just nodded and looked at Zach, who kept washing his face like a mama cat, tilting his chin up with one finger to get at the last traces.  His hands were steady, but the rest of his body was rigid and he was chewing at his lip.

Realization dawned.  “You haven’t come.”

Zach’s hand faltered, but just as well; he was done.  “No.”

“How long was I out?”  He reviewed Zach’s lack of prosthetics.  “Jesus, that long?”  He stood, almost steadily, and pulled Zach up into his arms.  “You’re insane.”

“I’m in good company.”  They kissed, an easy, rejuvenating sort of kiss that built up slow until Chris was biting and Zach was whimpering, his unsated arousal pressing urgently into their hips.

“Wait,” Zach gasped, pulling back for a second before Chris reclaimed him.  They sank back together until Zach pushed him back, hard.

“Wardrobe’s waiting.”

“So?  So are you.”

“They want to go home, Chris.  I’ll still be here when you get back.”  He took a step backward and pulled his t-shirt over his head, revealing acres of pale skin and a stray bruise on his collarbone that must have been Chris’ fault.  “And then we’ll be able to take as long as we want.”

Chris’ cock stirred.  He might have been imagining it, but his body felt hesitant, as if it recalled what had happened the last time he let Zach wind him up.  “You’re _inhuman_.”

“Chris, please.”  Zach never begged, but he was begging now, modulated tone notwithstanding.  “Hurry.”

+++

When he returned to an apparently empty trailer, his heart sank.  As soon as the door shut behind him, however, a loud, tortured moan sent him darting into the bedroom.

The sight that greeted him had him swaying on the spot for the umpteenth time that day.

Zach stared at him from beneath his arm, desperation clear in his blacked out eyes.  He was on his knees and elbow while the fingers of his left hand pumped in and out of his ass, glistening with lube.

Chris was undressed before he finished absorbing the scene, and he was buried to the hilt a split second later.

“Hard!”  Zach demanded, reaching out to brace against the wall so he could fuck himself on Chris’ dick, and Chris felt he couldn’t be blamed if he lost track of things for a few minutes.  Zach’s ass clenched around him, unbearably tight and fuck, he was still so sensitive from before, the tender nerves of his cock protesting the abuse even as he welcomed it.  Strong hands reached back to claw at his ass and thighs, making him spit curses before he hauled Zach up against his body.  The new angle let him jackhammer right into his prostate, raising a series of keening wails that must have sounded loud and clear through the thin trailer walls.

“That’s it,” he whispered.  “Let me hear it you teasing bastard.  Let me hear how much you love getting fucked on my dick.”

Zach obeyed.  He didn’t have a choice.  He clung to Chris’ arms where they wrapped around his body, arching back against him to meet him thrust for thrust.

At the first spasm, Chris tore one arm away and clamped his fingers around the base of Zach’s cock.

The full-throated scream that ripped out of him must have echoed across the studio lots.  He bucked wildly, cursing, but Chris hung on, milking his own orgasm with the spasms of Zach’s aborted climax.  He savored it for as long as he could—roughly two heartbeats—before Zach seized him by the back of the neck and wrestled him down onto the bed, stroking himself desperately.  Chris knocked his hand away and replaced it with his own, eyes squeezing closed as Zach shot hard, streaking hot come all over Chris’ face.

He collapsed forward to flop over his lover’s chest, both men breathing hard and writhing luxuriously in the afterglow.  “Zach.”  A weak smack on the butt followed by a series of pokes.  “You have to move, man, my ass is burning.”

“Oh.  Right.  Sorry.”  They rearranged themselves clumsily on their sides, Chris hissing when the rumpled bedclothes abraded the scratches on his backside.

“Fucking typical: you were the one getting fucked, but I’m the one who won’t be able to sit down for a week.”

“You might not be alone in that.  Jesus Christ, Christopher.”  They kissed, sleepily, and then Zach started licking the come off Chris’ cheeks, making soft woofing noises and sending their laughter rippling out into the night.


End file.
